“There are four or five men there, besides your kid. I didn’t see your car.”
“Okay, so how do we get my son away from them? Oliver’s dangerous, and he’s got a gun.”
Jimbo shrugged. “That so? They don’t look so tough, but if one’s packing, I’ll bet they all are—”
I interrupted him. “Packing?”
With a disgusted sigh, he said, “Carrying weapons. Are you going to let me finish or not?”
I shut up.
“Anyway, there’s an old van there, beige. I’m not sure what’s in it, but I don’t think we’re going to have time to find out. We nab the kid and get out of there.”
“I’ve got to get hold of that dragon that Oliver stole.” I wished I could just let him keep it, to pass the bad luck from me to him, but I knew that it didn’t work that way. Until I broke the curse, my family was in danger.
“What’s so special about it?” Jimbo narrowed his eyes. “Don’t try to bullshit me, either. Unless you tell me why we gotta take down a man with a gun for a little piece of plastic, then you’re going to have to make do with getting your kid back.”
I just wanted to move, to get in there, get Kip and the dragon, and go home, but Jimbo obviously wasn’t going to budge until I told him what he wanted to know. Maybe if I resorted to tears? Nope… one look and I knew that he’d just hand me the hanky and wait for me to blow my nose. “You’re going to think I’m nuts.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.” He grinned.
I glared at him. “Yeah, yeah, funny man. Fine, you want to know what’s going on? Here’s what’s going on: that dragon has a curse on it. Unless I get it back so I can break that curse, my kids and I are dead meat.”
He paused, stroking his beard, and I resisted the impulse to suggest that he braid the tangled mop. “You remind me of my granny.”
“I’m not that old.” Gee, I hadn’t been insulted this much since I last talked to Roy.
He gave me a withering look. “She’s a hoodoo woman, down in Louisiana. Breaks hexes and cast spells for people all the time. My mother moved us up here when I was seven, but before that, Granny used to tell me stories about the bogeys in the swamps down there. And I tell you, I’ve seen plenty of weird shit out in these woods.”
I realized he had accepted my story without so much as a blink. “So, you believe me?” This day had been just full of surprises, too many surprises. Right now, I’d happily settle for routine as usual.
Jimbo shrugged. “People around town say you’re a witch, but I just thought it was some cockeyed way to make money. Either that or their spelling ain’t so hot.” Another grin. “Okay, so we go after the dragon, too. Which dude is their leader? What’s he look like?” I quickly described Oliver. “Yeah,” he said, “the guy with the cigarettes. He does kinda look like a squirrel. So, here’s the deal: Kip—that’s the name of your boy, ain’t it—he’s sitting on a log near the back end of the field, tied up. The gang’s got a fire going in the fire pit, and I think they’re arguing about something. It doesn’t look like they’re ready to head out yet.”
“We need some sort of distraction, something to divide their attention so we can get to both Kip and Oliver,” I said, leaning against the nearest tree. My adrenaline rush was at low ebb, and I was feeling woozy and tired.
“Excuse me? So we can get to Oliver? Sorry to bust your bubble, babe, but you couldn’t even take on the Easter bunny. I’d lay ten to one odds on the rabbit.”
I held my breath and counted to ten. “Fine, you’ve made your point. Do you have any suggestions?”
Jimbo thought for a moment and then snapped his fingers. “You said we need a distraction. I know just what to do, but I’ll have to go back to the bike to get a few things. Wait here. Don’t move and don’t say a word.”
Before I could speak, he had turned tail and disappeared into the gloom. Great. Alone again and still waiting. We’d be lucky if Oliver and his gang didn’t decide to take off before we got in. If they were arguing, it probably had something to do with money or whatever else they’d managed to get their hands on. I hoped to hell they weren’t debating over what to do with my son.
Jimbo was back in less than five minutes, carrying a plastic bag that he must have grabbed out of his bike’s saddlebags. He was missing his bandanna, though, and when he lifted the trash bag, the odor of gasoline overwhelmed me. “You got a gun in there?” I asked, hoping for once that he would be true to stereotype and be “packing” himself.
He looked at me like I was crazy. “I just got out of the slammer tonight. You think I’m going to cart a gun around while I’m up on charges? Charges you brought against me, I might add?”
“Oh. But you were justified in smashing my window? Yep, you’re a real force unto yourself, aren’t you?”
He snorted. “You know you’re pretty when you’re fired up?” I glared at him but kept my mouth shut. “Okay, down to business. What I have in this bag will keep ’em so busy they won’t have time to think about the kid, let alone their getaway plans.”
“What are you talking about?” If he didn’t have a gun, just how did he expect to keep them from hightailing it out of here? “Knockout gas?”
“Not quite,” he said, pointing to a large tree about fifteen yards from us. “Get behind that tree, and try not to fall over anything.”
I cautiously picked my way through the undergrowth, ignoring the soft brush of moss against my face; it dripped off the tree limbs like lace. A rustle near my feet startled me, and I froze as something slithered over the tops of my shoes. A snake. Shit! I closed my eyes, pretending it was Sid, one of Murray’s boas. Sid was a nice snake. He liked me. He would never hurt me. As the reptile tickled my ankle and disappeared into the undergrowth, I let out a deep sigh. At least we weren’t east of the Cascades, where the rattlesnakes roamed. Over here in western Washington, we were civilized. All our wild snakes were harmless.
As I crept to the spot behind the tree Jimbo had pointed out, I found myself peeking through a narrow opening in the forest into the clearing. Flames flickered in a ring of stones, lighting up the glade, while a circle of trees protected the meadow from view. A beige van was parked near our hiding place. I looked around for Kip.
There! On a fallen log toward the back of the meadow. My baby was perched on the trunk, knees drawn to his chest. He rested his forehead against his knees, encircling them with his arms, which were bound at the wrists. A rope trailed along the ground, from the bindings over to where it was tied around a tree stump near the fire. Yep, Oliver had made certain he couldn’t run off into the woods. I searched but couldn’t see any obvious signs of injury. The adrenaline kicked in as I stared at my son. Oliver needed a good thrashing, and that was just what he’d get. Nobody messed with my babies and walked away clean; I was going to make him so sorry he ever laid eyes on me that he’d be begging the cops to cart him away.
Four men huddled around the campfire, arguing over what appeared to be a pile of loot near the flames. Oliver wasn’t with them. I craned my neck, trying to pinpoint him. After a moment, he emerged from behind a bush on the opposite side of the fire, zipping up his fly.
“That’s him, that’s Oliver,” I whispered, trying to keep my voice as low as I could. Jimbo nodded. He squatted down and opened the plastic bag, taking out a half-burnt candle and a lighter. A moment later, he was up again, peering back through the trees. Then he pulled his missing bandanna from the bag. The cloth was soaked with gasoline.
He grinned at me and whispered, “Gonna be a hot ol’ time for those boys tonight. You see that van of theirs?”
I glanced at the van and nodded.
“It’s got mag wheels.”
I shrugged. “So?”
He handed me the candle and lighter. “Hold these. Mag wheels have magnesium alloy in them.” I must have looked as blank as a fresh canvas because he gave me a look of frustration that mirrored how I felt. “Don’t remember your high
school chemistry, do you? Magnesium is highly flammable.” He pointed at the van. “I’m gonna make that baby blow like crazy.”
Whoa! I managed to stop myself from shouting as I began to understand his intentions. “You’re going to blow up their van?”
With a wink, he snickered. “Yep, but first, I have to get out there and file a few scrapings off one of those wheels. That, wrapped up with this candle and bandanna, will give us a wick to ignite whatever’s left in their gas tank. That should do the trick. The tanks on those old vans usually drop down directly below the gas cap. I’ll light this baby and toss her in there, then run like hell, ’cause when she blows, she’s gonna blow big.”
“Will anybody get hurt?”
Jimbo shrugged. “That’s a possibility, if they’re close to the van. Your choice—you want your kid, or you want to let them cart him off in that thing?”
I’d never been party to deliberate wholesale destruction before, but when he put it that way, I didn’t have much choice. They had my son, and I’d do whatever it took to rescue him. “What else do you need?”
“Time. The dudes around the fire seem pretty caught up in whatever they’re doing. I don’t think they’ll give us too much of a problem. It’s Oliver I’m worried about. He seems to be keeping a close eye on the whole camp.” He took the candle from me, wrapped part of the bandanna around it, then tied it in a loose knot. Then, pocketing the lighter, he took another look at the encampment.
I considered the situation. “What if I sneak up behind Kip and grab him? If I time it right, they’ll come after me but not be able to catch me before I’m back in the woods. They’ll be hunting for us, not paying attention to the van. Will that give you the time you need?”
Jimbo raised his eyebrows; he nodded ever so slightly as he thought about my proposal. “That would work. If you could give me five minutes, that would be enough. Once it goes, they’ll be back in that meadow in a flash, and then I can grab this Oliver dude when he comes back out of the woods. Trouble is, can you get over there on your own, snatch your kid, and dodge back into the forest without getting shot? I don’t think you can do it without getting your butt blown to smithereens. And trust me, a bullet wound ain’t a whole lot of fun.” He pulled up his shirtsleeve, and I saw a scar across the top of his bicep. “I know.”
He was probably right, but those men were going to kill Kip. Even supposing Oliver kept his word, the other members of his gang wouldn’t leave my son alive. He could identify them. Kip’s life was on the line.
“I can do it,” I told Jimbo. I dusted my hands on my jeans, then stopped and looked back at him. “Hey… thanks, you know?”
“We’ll get your kid back safe,” he said, then stretched out his hand. I lightly grazed his fingers with my own. “Just a minute,” he added. “You’re going to need a knife to cut the ropes. Here, I brought back an extra, just in case.”
He handed me an ominous-looking weapon. The trigger made me grin. A switchblade, just like the one I’d carried around in high school to attract the attention of Jimmy Salver, one of the bad boys. I’d never had the guts to even open the thing, but now? I’d learn fast. I flicked the button, opening and closing it a couple of times, then rested the hilt in my hands, searching for the blade’s center of balance before slipping it into my pocket.
Crouching as low as I could, I picked my way around the perimeter of the field, staying as close to the edge of the forest as possible so as to not be seen. I kept my eyes on the movement in the camp, pausing as I came to one of the fallen logs covered with moss. It was huge, with a hollow space beneath it where the rain-soaked earth had washed away. Good hiding place, I thought as I clambered over the tall timber. Once I rescued Kip, we’d have to hole up somewhere. There was no way in hell I could haul ass back through the woods while leading a frightened little boy out of harm’s way. Not with a gang of desperate men following me.
After what seemed like an interminable amount of time, I came to the edge of the clearing, directly in back of my son. He was about five yards away, staring at the men, and I was close enough to see that they were divvying up a stack of money. Oliver was leaning against the van, drinking a beer and smoking a cigarette. He was looking in the other direction, watching the entrance to the field, thank heaven. I steeled myself. It was now or never.
A drop to the forest floor brought me face-to-face with a mound of rotten debris. Yuck! And I’d thought Oliver’s garbage can was bad. With a deep breath, I sprawled out on my belly, using my elbows and feet to push me forward. Sheesh, everything in the movies looked so easy, but this slithering stuff was for stunt men, not for normal people like me. I was out of breath before I even got near Kip’s perch. I stopped, trying to keep myself from panting. What if they heard me? What if they shot me right in front of Kip? Oh hell, what the fuck were we doing here?
It was all the fault of that damned dragon. The root of everything that had happened, the statue had drawn one nasty surprise after another to my life. I shook my head. Whining was getting me nowhere; I had a job to do. I had to rescue my son.
Before I moved on, I readied my knife. No sense in losing any time, though I doubted that I could stop a bullet with it.
A moment later, I reached the back of the log. Bless his heart, Kip must have sensed my presence, because he gave a quick glace over his shoulder. I held my finger to my lips and, cool as shrimp on ice, he casually returned to resting his head on his knees. Now to free him and get both of us back into the forest before they shot us. Using my son as a shield from prying eyes, I slowly pulled myself up so I was barely peeking over the edge of the log.
Oliver polished off his beer. He crossed the camp to where an ice chest sat near the fire, grabbed another, then headed toward the woods opposite the van. The minute he stepped into the shadow of the trees, I eased my arm around Kip’s waist, and he swung his legs over the log. The men still hadn’t noticed. Kip faced me now and, trembling, I sliced through the ropes around his wrists.
I grabbed Kip by the arm and, in a low crouch, we raced toward the trees. As we neared the edge of the forest I stood up, breaking a branch as I did. Shouts erupted from the camp; we’d been spotted. I grabbed Kip and pulled him along, racing for the tree line, where we dove into the welcome embrace of the foliage. “Listen to me,” I said as I dragged him over stump and branch. “We have to hide before they get here.”
The sounds of shouting were closer now, and I knew that the men had reached the edge of the clearing. I frantically looked for the tree with the hiding spot. There! “Scramble under there and be quiet, no matter what you hear.”
“What about you, Mom?” Kip clutched my hand, panic washing across his face.
“Don’t worry about me,” I said as I gave him a fast peck on the cheek. “I love you. Now go! Do as I say and remember—keep quiet no matter what until I call you!” He crawled under the tree and vanished from sight.
I shuddered; probably a spider-filled hellhole under there, but still better than what awaited if Oliver and his cronies got hold of him. I took off in the other direction, making enough noise to draw their attention. I plunged through the forest, flailing at the low hanging branches that slapped against my face. Unable to see more than a few feet ahead of me, I tripped and went sprawling when my toe caught on a branch. Up again, no time to assess damage, no time to think, only to act.
As I straddled a log blocking the way and rolled over it to the other side, an ethereal silence descended to cloak the trees around me. Everything settled into a peaceful fog, even the pounding of my own heart. Mute, I stopped short; there was a light shining from a small stand of trees. The glimmer emanated from the roots on up to the branches, so faint it was almost undetectable. I reached out to touch the energy housed in the long white trunks, and an undertow swept me into the current that flowed through the copse, surrounding me with a feeling of safety and welcome. These trees were offering me a shield. I slipped into the midst of the birch stand and waited.
“Where’d they go? Damn it, find them!” Oliver, his voice angry and fueled by fear.
“Who the hell is she?” One of his cronies, no doubt.
“The kid’s mother,” Oliver shouted.
They searched all around the outskirts of the thicket, but not once did they set foot inside. It was as if the trees created an impenetrable barrier. I leaned my head against one of the cool trunks, grateful to whatever woodland spirit was protecting me.
The next moment, a huge explosion rocked the forest, and a fireball billowed up from the clearing. I flinched but managed to keep my mouth shut. Jeez! Jimbo hadn’t been kidding when he said he was going to shake things up!
Immediate pandemonium erupted from the group of thieves. All four men headed back for the clearing, but Oliver remained, still nosing around the copse. Damn it! What was I supposed to do now? I held my breath. He was less than a yard away. And then my cell phone in my back pocket rang. Hell and high water! I fumbled with it, but not before Oliver had honed in on the noise.
“Emerald? Emerald? You might as well come out now. I know you’re in there.” His voice showed no sign that he’d been shaken by the explosion. “I’m going to find you in a few minutes; it’ll be easier if you just come out now.” He was edging into the copse of birch when the sound of sirens began to wail in the distance. Murray, I thought. It must be Murray! Without a doubt, I knew she was on her way, but could she make it in time?
“Shit!” I could see Oliver turn toward the clearing, listening to the sirens, and it dawned on me that he probably had the dragon with him. This was my last chance. If he escaped, we’d be stuck with the curse. So would he, actually, but that was of little comfort. I leapt out of the trees, aiming directly for his back. He let out a sharp grunt, wavered a moment, then fell with me right on top of him.
“What the fuck—” he twisted around, shifting position under me. I knew he had a gun, but I couldn’t see if it was still in his hand. I tried to pin his arms, to hold him facedown, but his muscles were wiry, and he managed to roll over, taking me with him. His hands were empty; the gun must have been knocked out of his grasp when I hit him.
Legend of the Jade Dragon Page 24
